tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-41797456462766176692012-02-16T10:46:51.270-08:00Say the Trees Have Earsreflections - meditations - wanderings along the pathHeatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.comBlogger1891100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179745646276617669.post-31809034944008185322012-02-15T08:00:00.000-08:002012-02-15T08:00:02.058-08:00Druidry and Family/FriendsOne of the key concepts of modern Druidry is, for me, that of relationship. The Druid recognizes that everything is connected, and that everything in this world is in relationship with everything else in the world. Although in modern society, the word "relationship" is often used merely to refer to romantic relationships between two people, in the broadest sense, "relationship" can indicate allHeatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179745646276617669.post-33891368247852139802012-02-14T07:00:00.000-08:002012-02-14T07:00:11.744-08:00Sonnet CXVILet me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds
Or bends with the remover to remove.
O, no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wand'ring bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his highth be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179745646276617669.post-48640735263342846472012-02-09T15:56:00.000-08:002012-02-09T16:01:50.298-08:00Magic and MysteryIt is in the sound of the evening birdsong, in the rustle of immense trees swaying in the wind, in the ephemeral colours of the sunset, in the dark depths of the sea, in the airy heights of the mountains, in the storm and in the calm.
It is in the feeling you have when you gaze into the eyes of your beloved, when you make music, when you write poetry, when you draw or paint, when you work in Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179745646276617669.post-91656567232567725722012-01-31T11:33:00.000-08:002012-01-31T11:33:24.238-08:00January Miscellany
As a single footstep will not make a path on the earth, so a single thought will not make a pathway in the mind. To make a deep physical path, we walk again and again. To make a deep mental path, we must think over and over the kind of thoughts we wish to dominate our lives.
- Henry David Thoreau
January 2012. Walking in the sunlit winter meadow.
I have given much thought this month Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179745646276617669.post-83836412411763980312012-01-28T13:42:00.000-08:002012-01-28T13:44:21.825-08:00One Step at a Time: Developing Routines and Habits
So. The first month of the year has passed, despite the fact that it feels like scarcely a week since I hung up my new calendar for 2012. The days blend one into the other, the time spent in reading, writing, getting back to my morning yoga and meditation routine, going for walks in the woods, and more or less experiencing a brief moment of stillness between university and looking for jobs inHeatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179745646276617669.post-25656419328194987322012-01-27T10:27:00.000-08:002012-01-27T10:28:17.066-08:00Science and PhilosophyAs we journey, we are often looking for our unique voices and our unique paths through life. Each of us must walk our own path and none of us walks the exact same way as any other. It can be hard to set off on our path, hard not to walk the ways that others have walked before, hard not to just take the easy paths through the forest. It can be hard to speak up, and to say the things that must Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179745646276617669.post-77867253575262802152012-01-19T07:00:00.000-08:002012-01-19T07:00:02.313-08:00Values and EthicsAs we travel along our myriad paths, there are things that we pick up and carry with us as we move into the future: a smooth colourful stone, a shell, a feather, a poem jotted on the pages of our journal. There are other things too: old habits, attitudes, behaviours, and ways of thinking, all the baggage, both material and immaterial, that we acquire as we move through life. Old quarrels and Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179745646276617669.post-80273054854267644402012-01-17T13:49:00.000-08:002012-01-17T13:53:54.169-08:00Song and PoetryListen. Can you hear it?
It is the song of the Earth, the wordless, voiceless song that all living and non-living beings in this strangely beautiful world are singing. We hear it in the whisper of trees in the breeze, in the patter of raindrops on a lake, in the cadences of birdsong, in the whirling of the wind, in the hush of a lover's voice speaking to his or her beloved, and in the silence Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179745646276617669.post-89646620210123804492012-01-08T09:31:00.000-08:002012-01-08T09:31:29.300-08:00Story and MythListen closely. Let me tell you a story.
It is a story of once upon a time, when all stories were one story. It is a story you have heard before, although you may not remember when or where you heard it, or whether you heard it in waking or in a dream. Listen. It begins...
~~~
We shape our lives with stories. I have often mused that perhaps what we are looking for is not the truth or Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179745646276617669.post-74342973989303334482011-12-28T10:23:00.000-08:002011-12-28T10:23:32.360-08:00Crafting the Vision, Walking the PathYet another year is drawing to a close. As always, at this time of year I find myself pondering the year that has passed - the things that I have accomplished, the successes that I've had, the places where I've fallen short of where I've wanted to be - and making plans for the new year to come. As always, I find myself believing that this year will be different, that this will be the year that Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179745646276617669.post-85185980312465471842011-12-19T10:16:00.000-08:002011-12-19T10:16:46.185-08:00That Time of Year AgainOne of my clearest wintertime memories from childhood is of my parents awaking me early one morning and leading me to the front window of our old house in the country to look out. Spread before me was a true winter wonderland: the smooth white sweep of snow in the yard, glittering icicles hanging from the eaves, the stately Douglas-fir trees crowned in white. Indoors, the wood stove was Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179745646276617669.post-45002500572637209682011-11-30T18:26:00.000-08:002011-11-30T18:26:18.797-08:00November MiscellanyYour task is not to seek for love, but merely to seek and find all the barriers within yourself that you have built against it.
-Rumi (via A Druid Thurible)
There is something to be said for November... one of the most difficult times of the year for me in recent years, yet it is also the time of year when the bones of the landscape are laid bare. The cold winds blast over the hills and whistleHeatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179745646276617669.post-3845466475705525662011-11-28T14:47:00.000-08:002011-11-28T14:47:56.248-08:00No Maps, No Signs: Heading Into the WildernessOver the last year, I have found myself increasingly moving away from the Pagan (or pagan) and Druid labels and into more uncharted territory. It is not that I find Paganism and Druidry to be missing something or to be going the wrong way - it is more that I have simply turned a corner and headed off in my own direction, into the wilderness.
As I have written here before, all labels are Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179745646276617669.post-35313230300470805402011-11-16T09:13:00.000-08:002011-11-16T09:13:57.969-08:00Stillness and MeditationWe cannot always be acting. We cannot always be doing. We cannot always be speaking. We cannot always be writing.
Sometimes, we need to let go of all that and step into the silence, into the stillness, into the darkness. We need to stop and breathe and let our thoughts and hopes and fears pass through us like water.
Like the poet waiting in the darkness of the cave, feeling her body become Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179745646276617669.post-58963700648895356562011-11-03T09:13:00.000-07:002011-11-16T09:17:33.525-08:00One Year Passes, Another BeginsSay the Trees Have Ears is now three years old. As I have done for the last two anniversaries, I would like to take a look back at the past year of blogging and take a look forward as well. The past year has been a mixed one for this blog. Personally, many changes were and still are happening in my life, which has made it difficult at times to actually find the time to write, and I have also Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179745646276617669.post-64185003424194837492011-10-31T12:56:00.000-07:002011-10-31T12:56:43.116-07:00October MiscellanyYou are looking outwards, and of all things that is what you must now not do. Nobody can advise and help you, nobody. There is only one single means. Go inside yourself. Discover the motive that bids you write; examine whether it sends its roots down to the deepest places of your heart, confess to yourself whether you would have to die if writing were denied you. This before all: ask Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179745646276617669.post-70541278168939731562011-10-29T16:25:00.000-07:002011-10-29T16:28:17.322-07:00Awen and CreativityIn silence, the poet is led into the cave. She has been fasting for the last three days, and her body feels curiously light, as though at any moment she might drift away into the darkening twilight sky. She walks slowly and carefully, feeling the cool dampness of the cave floor on her bare feet.
They bring the blindfold down over her eyes and she lays down on her back on the cold, hard floor.Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179745646276617669.post-48579185675676664632011-10-17T09:58:00.000-07:002011-10-17T09:58:05.680-07:00The Wheel of the YearIt is autumn here now - a season marked not only by the flamboyant colours of the leaves, but also by the shortening days and lengthening nights, by the first frost that glistens on the grass, and by the pale coldness of the sky above. And it is a season that is marked within as well as without. The animals feel it, as something stirs within them and calls to them to migrate southwards, to growHeatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179745646276617669.post-13596517163326366832011-10-16T14:28:00.000-07:002011-10-16T14:35:38.026-07:00RitualI feel better almost as soon as I step outside, locking the door behind me. I start walking, and the ritual begins. I enjoy feeling the swing of arms and legs, the way my heart begins to pound, the way the cool air touches my face as I move, the way I place my feet down firmly, step after step, on the ground.
After about ten minutes, I begin to reach that state where the constant internal Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179745646276617669.post-76777664091493773432011-10-14T13:56:00.000-07:002011-10-14T13:57:38.117-07:00Spirits of the LandWe are not alone on this land. We share this land with many others, and they are countless.
They are the birds that fly through the air, the fish that swim through the waters, and all the animals that walk, crawl, creep, and slither on the land. They are the trees rooted in the earth, the grasses swaying in the breeze, and the brilliant wildflowers blooming in the meadow. They are the fungi Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179745646276617669.post-54172956930754041302011-09-30T16:12:00.000-07:002011-09-30T16:12:34.521-07:00September MiscellanyHad I the heavens' embroidered cloths,Enwrought with golden and silver light,The blue and the dim and the dark clothsOf night and light and the half-light,I would spread the cloths under your feet:But I, being poor, have only my dreams;I have spread my dreams under your feet;Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.
- W.B. Yeats, "He wishes for the Cloths of Heaven"
Windswept lakeshore. Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179745646276617669.post-69891999029157631452011-09-24T17:56:00.000-07:002011-09-24T17:56:06.511-07:00The AncestorsOur ancestors are those who have gone before.
Our ancestors are our parents and their parents and their parents, all the way back. We are linked to them, through genes, through blood, through heirlooms and stories and family traditions that get passed down, changing as they go, the treasured vase with one more chip, your grandfather's stories becoming more and more fantastical with every Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179745646276617669.post-13170337489386702602011-09-23T18:43:00.000-07:002011-09-23T18:43:03.356-07:00Deity and BeliefBack in elementary school I was fascinated by the old Greek myths. I had a battered old paperback copy of Edith Hamilton's Mythology, which I read and re-read until I knew the old tales by heart. The Greek gods were a fascinating bunch: impetuous, vain, argumentative, liable to falling in love with mortals and taking sides in mortal wars. I enjoyed reading the old myths, but I loved their Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179745646276617669.post-79819313929070657162011-09-13T09:04:00.000-07:002011-09-13T09:04:01.283-07:00Daily PracticeThe days pass by so rapidly now, blending one into the other, the seasons slipping by before my very eyes, summer to autumn to winter to spring to summer again. It seems that there was once was a time in my life when the days passed more slowly, when weeks were like months, months like years, and years were scarcely comprehensible. Now, even the years seem to go by faster and faster, each one Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179745646276617669.post-66916924218676971422011-09-09T07:35:00.000-07:002011-09-09T07:35:00.391-07:00Sacred Spaces, Sacred PlacesAll of this land is sacred, even beneath the garbage and pollutants that we cover it with. Beneath the concrete and highways and factories and skyscrapers, the sacred land awaits. It is never gone, never any less sacred, only ignored, neglected, suppressed, and forgotten.
We feel the sacred nature of the land more clearly in areas that have been relatively untouched by humans: high in the Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179745646276617669.post-75622180570174159832011-09-08T09:12:00.000-07:002011-09-08T09:12:05.470-07:00The Cycles of LifeStars are born in a cloud of dust and gas, burn and produce light for a short or a long time, and then die, quietly or in a massive outburst of matter and energy known as a supernova. The supernova fuses heavier, more complex elements, which may one day become the building blocks of life on another planet. The waves of energy released by the supernova trigger star formation in nearby dust Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179745646276617669.post-36962974942717715602011-09-06T15:32:00.000-07:002011-09-06T15:32:18.484-07:00The Three RealmsIt is August, a few years ago, around the time of Lughnasadh. I stand out in the yard of our old house in the country. Kneeling, I place my palms on the ground, and feel the dry blades of grass tickling my fingers. I imagine the land stretching itself outwards from where my body touches it, the multi-hued land of plants and animals, mountains and rivers and deserts. For a moment, I can almostHeatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179745646276617669.post-18141695416514033132011-08-31T13:13:00.000-07:002011-08-31T13:13:41.407-07:00August MiscellanyThe world will always be here, and it will always be different, more varied, more interesting, more alive, but still always the world in all its complexity and incompleteness. There is nothing behind it, no absolute or platonic world to transcend to. All there is of Nature is what is around us. All there is of Being is relations among real, sensible things. All we have of natural law is a Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179745646276617669.post-31576512475014088122011-08-29T10:15:00.000-07:002011-08-29T10:15:44.246-07:00Earth and NatureThis Earth, this land, this dirt, this soil... It is the planet on which we travel in our voyage through space, in our yearly orbit around the Sun, in the Sun's much longer orbit around the centre of the Milky Way Galaxy, in the galaxy's own inexorable movement.
The Earth is our home. Perhaps even one day when we have colonized other planets in the galaxy (if our species even lives that long),Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179745646276617669.post-14152675982191572682011-08-28T09:29:00.000-07:002011-08-28T09:32:06.894-07:00CosmologyIn the beginning, there was chaos*.
In the beginning, things were hotter and denser than they are now, a soup of undifferentiated particles. Matter cooled. Photons were released, and there was light.
Matter cooled, expanded, condensed into swirling galaxies. Clouds of gas collapsed into stars. Nuclear fusion occurred, and there was light.
Stars burned and died, strewing the galaxy as they Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179745646276617669.post-74994325175399504722011-08-27T17:21:00.000-07:002011-08-27T17:21:05.145-07:00Why Druidry?Once upon a time, long long ago, a group of peoples spread across Europe. The Greeks called them Celts and it is this name that we know them by today, although it is unlikely that they all called themselves that, or even that they all saw themselves as one people. Their allegiance was to their separate tribes, which warred among and raided from each other frequently. The Romans wrote of their Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179745646276617669.post-58775510416457942502011-08-25T14:48:00.000-07:002012-02-15T09:32:13.123-08:0030 Days of DruidryThe 30 Days of Druidry meme was begun by Alison Leigh Lilly as a way to explore the different facets of modern Druidry. I've altered Ali's original list of topics slightly to make it better suit my personal beliefs, practice, and life situation, as well as to include a couple of other topics that I have been wanting to write about but haven't been able to work into the usual posts. I'll update Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179745646276617669.post-75792523253316602352011-08-21T10:56:00.000-07:002011-08-21T11:17:46.177-07:00Where I'm At: Onward and UpwardIf the most fundamental questions of our existence are unanswerable, then what is the point of continuing to search for Truth? If we know we will never reach the summit, then why bother continuing to climb?
Because the alternative - if we could someday reach an ultimate limit to our knowledge - would be far worse, leading to a world without Mystery, without anything new to discover. Because we Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179745646276617669.post-65526193266591904902011-08-14T10:40:00.000-07:002011-08-21T10:57:10.517-07:00Where I'm At: Uncertainty, Belief, and Spiritual PracticeIn my last post, I wrote of my recognition of myself as an agnostic, and of my realization that many of the answers to the most fundamental questions of our existence will likely remain unknown, or at least known only imperfectly. Our scientific theories become more and more accurate, yet may never be perfect descriptions of our beautiful and messy reality. Religion and spirituality may provideHeatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179745646276617669.post-35709576147220992882011-08-03T06:13:00.000-07:002011-08-14T10:41:42.092-07:00Where I'm At: Agnosticism, Paganism, and the Limits of ScienceTo know that we know what we know, and to know that we do not know what we do not know, that is true knowledge -- Nicolaus Copernicus
I've been looking through some of the early posts from this blog, and I've realized that the path I was on then is no longer the path I am on now. This is what accounts, I suppose, for my difficulties in writing here lately. The reason why I began this blog is Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179745646276617669.post-10418214545045303672011-08-01T15:58:00.000-07:002011-08-01T15:58:12.091-07:00July MiscellanyI like for narrators to be like the people I choose for friends, which is to say they have a lot of the same flaws as I. Preoccupation with self is good, as is a tendency toward procrastination, self-delusion, darkness, jealousy, groveling, greediness, addictiveness. They shouldn't be too perfect; perfect means shallow and unreal and fatally uninteresting. I like for them to have a nice sick Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179745646276617669.post-5498473850116402532011-07-08T14:26:00.000-07:002011-07-08T14:26:36.640-07:00My Other Blog is Better: On Blogging and CommunityI have been thinking lately about how blogging can create community, and how, in some ways, Say the Trees Have Ears has failed while my other blog, A Penchant for Paper, has succeeded.
A Penchant for Paper is primarily about pens, journals, and notebooks. It has not been around as long as this blog (I began it about 8 months after I began this one), and it has over twice as many followers as Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179745646276617669.post-11989210937666199572011-06-28T14:55:00.000-07:002011-06-28T14:55:03.709-07:00Emptiness and PotentialI feel empty these days. Thoughts and ideas for short stories, blog posts, and poems come and go in my mind, and I don't even try to write them down. I make plans and lists and painstakingly fill in the pages of my planner, but end up spending my days reading instead, drifting from book to book. I have applied, unsuccessfully, for a couple of summer jobs, but I remain uncertain about any Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179745646276617669.post-62581988150245387822011-06-16T09:31:00.000-07:002011-06-16T09:31:12.251-07:00No Unsacred Place: Nature ObservationSeveral years ago I purchased a field guide to the butterflies of my province. Until then I had been aware of perhaps only a handful of different butterflies: yellow ones, white ones, orange and black ones, and the yellow and black striped swallowtails. Opening my new field guide, I discovered hundreds of butterfly species: several different swallowtails, dozens of sulphurs and whites, tiny bluesHeatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179745646276617669.post-38006452326403602272011-06-07T12:56:00.000-07:002011-06-07T12:56:11.951-07:00I am undividedIn a recent post, Dianne Sylvan wrote of the difficulty in maintaining a complete identity with the multitude of online personas that are available to us. Her post resonated with me in a number of ways.
To begin with, most people do not present the same face to everyone that they know or in all situations. Certain environments require that we respond in certain appropriate ways, whether it be Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179745646276617669.post-90674282478701651172011-05-10T10:40:00.000-07:002011-05-10T10:40:12.411-07:00Travel AltarThis lovely wooden box holds a few essential items that I use in my daily spiritual practice. Choosing the items allowed me to focus my attention on which items were truly important and useful in my practice, and eliminate those which were just decoration and, ultimately, clutter. The box also provides an aesthetically-pleasing location to store items that I may not be comfortable keeping out Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179745646276617669.post-1529339888820149582011-04-24T16:19:00.000-07:002011-06-16T09:32:25.175-07:00A Windy Day in SpringToday I am writing outdoors in a shady patch of grass beneath a ponderosa pine. The sky is covered with high thin cirrus clouds and it is warm enough to not wear a jacket. It is hot in the sun, but pleasantly cool in the shade with the breeze blowing.
We are finally getting the first proper spring weather of the season, even if it was snowing just last Thursday. I try to think of the last timeHeatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179745646276617669.post-17889323992190043162011-04-08T16:38:00.000-07:002011-06-16T09:32:25.178-07:00New Blog: No Unsacred Place
I would like to encourage my readers to visit No Unsacred Place: Earth and Nature in Pagan Traditions, a new blog which is part of the ever-growing Pagan Newswire Collective. I am one of the authors, along with Ali from Meadowsweet & Myrrh, Cat Chapin-Bishop from Quaker Pagan Reflections, and other excellent writers. My last few weeks of classes have been very hectic, so I haven't been able toHeatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179745646276617669.post-70441352720133095382011-03-22T11:54:00.000-07:002011-03-22T11:54:43.506-07:00Passing the Time: Living Forever
"One of the strange things about living in the world is that it is only now and then one is quite sure one is going to live forever and ever and ever. One knows it sometimes when one gets up at the tender solemn dawn-time and goes out and stands alone and throws one's head far back and looks up and up and watches the pale sky slowly changing and flushing and marvelous unknown things happening Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179745646276617669.post-15368978575654154722011-02-26T19:38:00.000-08:002011-10-16T14:36:03.920-07:00Stillness in Motion: Daily Spiritual PracticeI have been thinking about daily spiritual practice lately and wondering, yet again, why I have struggled so much with the concept. I think that part of the reason has to do with being raised in a non-religious, non-spiritual household, so that even today there is a part of me that is always asking, what is the point of a daily spiritual practice? Clearly it is possible to live without it. I Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179745646276617669.post-47422345585758036342011-02-13T14:01:00.000-08:002011-02-13T14:01:50.709-08:00Walking in the WindThe last couple of days here have been incredibly windy. The wind throws plastic bags into the branches of trees and howls through the vent above my window. When I looked out this morning, the ground was littered with shingles torn off the roof in the night.
Yet after a day and a half spent studying indoors, I simply had to get out. The blue skies and sunshine beckoned to me, reminding me of Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179745646276617669.post-57916358253182936422011-01-25T11:14:00.000-08:002011-01-25T11:14:06.900-08:00On Schedules, Time, and HappinessIt is the beginning of my third week working with the schedule that I designed to help me take better control of my time. I cannot say that it has been a success, although I still think that it was a good idea. The problem lies not in the schedule itself or in any fault of my own (procrastination, etc.), but rather in the simple fact that there are not enough hours in the day, days in the week,Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179745646276617669.post-14415767899337657742011-01-10T14:32:00.000-08:002011-01-10T14:32:12.049-08:00Taking Control of the Passing DaysAs I described in my last post, time has a habit of slipping away all too quickly. Looking back, the days, weeks, and even years begin to blur together, and it seems as though a year passes by as quickly as a month used to do when I was a child. To pin down the days, and to document both the everyday and extraordinary happenings of my life as well as the cycles of the natural world, I try to Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179745646276617669.post-81942150234729315682011-01-09T18:26:00.000-08:002011-01-09T18:26:08.816-08:00Where Do the Days Go?I can remember a time, not so long ago, when an hour was long enough to discover a new world, or to create one, to make a new friend, or to quarrel and make it up again. Days stretched on wonderfully, and a month was a nearly incomprehensible length of time. And a year? A year was an eternity.
But now, days slip by all too easily. A month is half past before I scarcely realize that it has Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179745646276617669.post-38426957931995466972010-12-21T14:55:00.000-08:002010-12-21T14:55:58.320-08:00Winter Solstice, Alban ArthanIt is snowing as I write this - very small, fine flakes. Everything - trees, bushes, roofs of houses - has a layer of white. It is a perfect, Christmas-card winter's day. As I sit gazing out, I search within myself for - something, for some vestige of that delight I used to feel at this time of year, a delight mingled of school holidays and playing in the snow and fresh-baked cookies and Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179745646276617669.post-42605768515110863262010-12-08T14:45:00.000-08:002011-11-03T09:07:37.098-07:00Changes, and an Explanation (sort of)An excerpt from my journal, November 23, 2010:
"It is so easy to just live from day to day, never raising one's gaze from the daily routine, never looking beyond, never looking forward or back. But I cannot be happy that way, cannot be content, cannot be satisfied. There is always something within me craving for I know not what, always dreaming, trying to break free. It is easy to speak in Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179745646276617669.post-42400146166154084002010-11-18T20:23:00.000-08:002010-11-18T20:24:10.955-08:00Reflections: Loneliness, Happiness, & WinterWhat is inconceivable about the universe is that it should be at all conceivable.
- Albert Einstein
No, I have not dropped off the face of the planet (even though it feels like it at times). I am just very, very, very busy. This might even be the busiest I have ever been in my life. I am writing reports, preparing for presentations, and studying for numerous exams, all of which are due or areHeatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179745646276617669.post-90786534565410146992010-11-03T07:42:00.000-07:002010-11-03T07:42:00.994-07:00Two Years LaterYet another year has passed since I began this blog on November 3, 2008. Yet another Samhain has passed. Once again I find myself looking back at where my steps have led me during the past year and where I hope my wanderings will take me this year.
I feel that in the last few months the quality of my posts here has improved, and that I have got beyond that awkward "oh, look, I have a blog" Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179745646276617669.post-16480616733890128352010-10-24T18:54:00.000-07:002010-10-24T18:54:12.858-07:00Passing the Time: The Days That Are No More
"Tears, Idle Tears" by Alfred, Lord Tennyson
Tears, idle tears, I know not what I mean,
Tears from the depths of some divine despair
Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes,
In looking on the happy Autumn-fields,
And thinking of the days that are no more.
Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail,
That brings our friends up from the underworld,
Sad as the last which reddens over one
That Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179745646276617669.post-82532368538797496652010-10-13T12:19:00.000-07:002010-10-13T12:19:59.386-07:00Reaching Out: On Finding Other PagansI have always been a rather reclusive, reserved sort of person and, probably due to being raised in a non-religious household where being religious or spiritual in any way was viewed with suspicion, I have been especially shy about telling others about my religious and spiritual path. This is why I have never tried to seek out other Pagans in my area. This is also why I don't reveal my last Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179745646276617669.post-18065697174809523562010-10-11T15:41:00.000-07:002010-10-11T15:41:45.614-07:00Finding the TimeI have written recently about how I have tried to find focus in my practice, yet what I am struggling with most these days is simply finding the time.
It is easy to put off our practice because we tell ourselves that we do not have time for it. Yet somehow, it is easier to find time to watch TV, play video games, read a book, go to work, go to school, do homework, and even clean house than it Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179745646276617669.post-36163354655356033392010-10-07T20:40:00.000-07:002010-10-13T13:53:45.628-07:00Passing the Time: Autumn Leaves and Poetry
Autumn leaves in the horticultural garden, one of my favourite places to visit on campus.
"Sun, moon, mountains, and rivers are the writing of being, the literature of what-is. Long before our species was born, the books had been written. The library was here before we were. We live in it. We can add to it, or we can try; we can also subtract from it. We can chop it down, incinerate it,Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179745646276617669.post-3997721385034726742010-10-04T19:16:00.000-07:002010-10-04T19:16:53.229-07:00Book of the Month: A Wizard of EarthseaUrsula K. Le Guin's magnificent tale of high fantasy, A Wizard of Earthsea, easily ranks among my favourite fantasy novels and my favourite novels of any kind. I first read it many years ago, possibly in my last year of elementary school or my first year of high school, and have read it many times since then. Although the book is usually targeted at young adult readers, this book, a timeless Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179745646276617669.post-33650799506092215502010-09-28T18:32:00.000-07:002010-10-04T19:20:40.920-07:00Passing the Time: Autumnal
"Autumn Song" by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
Know'st thou not at the fall of the leaf
How the heart feels a languid grief
Laid on it for a covering,
And how sleep seems a goodly thing
In Autumn at the fall of a leaf?
And how the swift beat of the brain
Falters because it is in vain,
In Autumn at the fall of the leaf
Knowest thou not? and how the chief
Of joys seems - not to suffer pain?
Know'st Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179745646276617669.post-50666169601633994512010-09-24T09:35:00.000-07:002011-10-16T14:37:06.110-07:00Alban Elued, Autumnal EquinoxPeople speak of this as being a time of balance, but I think of it more as a time of movement, of rapid change. The solstices (solstice, from Latin sol sun and sistere to stand still) are the times of stillness, when the postions of the sun's rising and setting along the horizon do not change. The equinoxes are the opposite extreme, the time when the lengths of the days and nights are most Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179745646276617669.post-83283297056270399012010-09-19T16:20:00.000-07:002010-10-04T19:21:07.010-07:00Passing the Time: Streamside
Pink monkey-flower (Mimulus lewisii) and Common red paintbrush (Castilleja miniata) growing along a subalpine stream. August 2010.
"The most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious: It is the source of all true art and science. He to whom this emotion is a stranger, who can no longer pause to wonder and stand rapt in awe, is as good as dead: his eyes are closed."--- Albert Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179745646276617669.post-44148061314273275632010-09-10T18:47:00.000-07:002010-09-10T18:47:15.500-07:00Polytheists, Atheists, and That Brighid ThingBefore I begin, I would like to mention that one of my readers, Ravendark, has recently begun his own blog called Atheist Druid. He has some interesting posts up already so do go check it out. And, in his case you were wondering, his blog did give me part of the idea for this post.
I've tried to be a polytheist. After all, it seems to be the fashionable kind of thing to do if you're a pagan Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179745646276617669.post-8585594274630050352010-09-07T19:15:00.000-07:002010-09-07T19:15:31.557-07:00The Druid's Journal"For a while I felt like I was getting close to something. . . But then confusion. What do I believe? These questions are old. I am tired of them."
September 27, 2006
~~~
"I don't understand. I am a fool. I am increasingly lonely and bored and fatigued."
January 24, 2007
~~~
". . . every time I write in this book I feel like contradicting everything I have written before . . . I have Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179745646276617669.post-49040724732623129332010-09-01T11:20:00.000-07:002010-09-01T11:20:05.928-07:00September: Musings, News, QuestionsThe first day of September - a week from today will be the first day of my fifth year at university. For the last week or so, I have been packing things, putting things away, making lists, and trying to read as many of the books on my "to read" shelf as possible before I return to class, when I will have less time to read than I do now.
Outside, the hot, dry weather seems to have ended, at Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179745646276617669.post-86668931318139402292010-08-25T10:10:00.000-07:002010-09-07T19:26:32.583-07:00First Steps on the Path: Advice for Beginning DruidsI still think of myself as a beginner in many ways, but time passes, and it has now been nearly 4 years since I decided that Druidry would be the path that I would follow, although I had been interested in Druidry and paganism for some time before that. It is still a very short time compared to that of others who have been pursuing this path for decades. However, I was surprised and flattered Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179745646276617669.post-77427679006892988422010-08-15T10:34:00.000-07:002010-08-15T10:35:14.948-07:00On the High MountainEarlier this month, I climbed a mountain.
Idaho Peak, from below on the trail.
Well, not really. The mountain goes by the common name of Idaho Peak, and is found in the Kootenay region of British Columbia, Canada, not far from the village of New Denver. A winding, narrow, bumpy road with some serious switchbacks goes most of the way to the top. From the parking lot, it only takes an hour or soHeatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179745646276617669.post-80316115277392580572010-08-10T08:49:00.000-07:002010-08-10T08:49:15.761-07:00The Sun Going South, The Seasons ChangingLughnasadh is past and we are well into the middle of August.
The very hot weather that we were having here seems to have passed (for now). Temperatures are cooler and we have even had a little bit of rain, although it has not been nearly enough to reduce the constant risk of forest fires. The thick smoke that was plaguing the valley has finally gone, and has been replaced with fresh breezes,Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179745646276617669.post-44955944653779997952010-08-08T16:47:00.000-07:002010-08-08T16:47:03.469-07:00Finding FocusPeriodically, I decide that everything I am doing with regards to my spiritual development is getting me nowhere and needs to be reworked. This time I have come to the conclusion, as I have before, that I am trying to do too much.
Part of the problem is that there are so many things that I want to do: I want to meditate, pray, practice yoga, exercise, write poetry, write in my journal, practiceHeatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179745646276617669.post-56075544869401543132010-08-02T08:59:00.000-07:002010-10-04T19:23:33.728-07:00Book of the Month: The Magic Within"Say the trees have ears," she said, speaking to Junie but also seeming to implore the books around her, the table and chairs, the air itself. "Say they have heard all the murmurs down the centuries that we have missed, or thought we heard, but misheard. Say the trees have ears, and not only ears but voices too. They might have heard things spoken under their boughs a hundred years ago, or in Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179745646276617669.post-20899310129908021892010-08-01T13:16:00.000-07:002010-08-01T13:16:14.913-07:00A Blog With SubstanceI'm rather undecided about blog awards - whether to accept or not - but since I was awarded this one from not one but two lovely people, I didn't think I could safely ignore it.
First of all, thank you very much to Nellie from A Bit of Gardening Spirit and Moon Daughter from Path of the Moon Daughter for passing this award on to me. I really appreciate it.
Now for the rules...
Thank the Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179745646276617669.post-46835291675649343122010-07-28T10:27:00.000-07:002010-07-28T10:27:30.106-07:00A Little Issue of Capital Letters: paganism vs. PaganismThose of you who are particularly observant readers and who have been reading this blog for a while may have noticed that in the last few posts here I have used "Pagan" and "Paganism," while in past posts, I typically used "pagan" and "paganism." Why have I changed, and what is the significance of using or not using capital letters for these (and other) terms?
I reasoned that if Paganism is a Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179745646276617669.post-28980927099299284852010-07-26T10:37:00.000-07:002010-07-26T10:37:55.497-07:00Contact the AuthorThis is just a quick note to let you know that you can now contact me directly through email. If you have any specific questions that you want to ask me, or anything else that you want to write to me about, feel free to send me a message. You can email me at: heather[dot]papertrees[at]gmail[dot]com (replacing the [dot] and [at] with the appropriate symbols, of course).Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179745646276617669.post-22349617584137775152010-07-23T13:31:00.000-07:002010-07-23T13:31:23.265-07:00Communities, Pagan & Otherwise, Part 2: ReflectionsIn part 1 of this post, I arrived at a tentative definition of a Pagan community:
"Members of a Pagan community: communicate with each other, practice some Pagan religion, share and develop their practices together, and consider the community an essential part of their practice in some way."Also in part 1, I mentioned that there were two questions related to the concept of community, especially aHeatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179745646276617669.post-86274686497402905202010-07-21T11:20:00.000-07:002010-07-21T11:20:26.771-07:00Communities, Pagan & Otherwise, Part 1: DefinitionsThere have been many discussions lately about the concept of the Pagan community. This term has troubled me for two main reasons: first, I have a sneaking suspicion that I may not be a member of the Pagan community, and second, I am beginning to fear that I have never been a part of any community. I want to address these issues here, but first, I want to examine what a community is, especially Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179745646276617669.post-12228833840098616192010-07-15T08:10:00.000-07:002010-10-04T19:23:20.335-07:00Book of the Month: NightWatchBackyard astronomers are a special breed. They savor their moments under the stars. They have an infatuation - a love affair - with the cosmos that grows and nurtures itself just as meaningful human relationships do.... After a night under the stars, I have a sense of mellowness, an amalgam of humility, wonder and discovery. The universe is beautiful, in both the visual and the spiritual Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179745646276617669.post-57714279774384773892010-07-13T08:41:00.000-07:002010-07-13T08:41:57.495-07:00Why Modern Pagans Should Be AstronomersMany Pagans seem to have a fairly high degree of nature awareness. They may be more likely than the average citizen to be able, for example, to identify different species of trees or birds within their neighbourhood. They may also be more likely to be environmentally aware - to recycle, eat local food, drive less, etc.
But one area of nature which Pagans do not appear to have a special Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179745646276617669.post-35126952024831448302010-07-09T14:41:00.000-07:002010-07-09T14:41:14.847-07:00Trembling Aspen: A Short StoryShe stepped within the small grove of trembling aspen trees and sank down upon the old wooden bench. Even such a short distance from the sidewalk, the air felt cooler, now that she was away from the hot pavement. She felt her breathing begin to slow.
She picked up a leaf that lay beside her on the bench and looked at it. The petiole, or stem, of the leaf was long and flattened, oriented at Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179745646276617669.post-56284596466148616582010-07-04T10:10:00.000-07:002010-07-04T10:10:55.754-07:00Dancing and Leaping: Summer Book ReviewsSun Dancing by Geoffrey Moorhouse
This was a beautifully written book, and one that I look forward to reading again. Sun Dancing is about the early Irish monks who lived on Skellig Michael, a tiny, rocky, inhospitable island off the southwest coast of Ireland in the sixth to thirteenth centuries. Although essentially a history, the first part of the book is fiction, gently introducing the Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179745646276617669.post-65170983938664770412010-06-29T11:03:00.000-07:002010-06-29T11:03:48.462-07:00Picking Strawberries and the Practice of SimplicityI kneel among the rows of plants, combing through the leaves in search of the bright red strawberries. I pick enough to fill my hand, carefully severing their stems with my fingernail, then empty my handful into the bucket. Everything is wet, and my hands and the knees of my jeans are soaked in minutes. My thighs begin to ache first, followed by my lower back, as I constantly shift my positionHeatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179745646276617669.post-70038236558463482962010-06-26T16:06:00.000-07:002010-06-26T16:06:47.796-07:00Thoreau on ReadingHow many a man has dated a new era in his life from the reading of a book. -- Henry David Thoreau
I have been re-reading Thoreau's Walden again lately; it is a book that bears reading over again every one or two years. Every time I read it I discover new treasures, new things to ponder and turn over in my mind. Although I do not agree with everything in the book - many sentences cause me to Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179745646276617669.post-21402358497306021022010-06-20T13:02:00.000-07:002010-06-20T13:02:35.249-07:00A Book of PrayersI have always been a collector. I collect books and pens and interesting stones and sticks and dried flowers. For nearly as long as I have been able to read and write, I have collected notebooks. At any one time, I have several notebooks in use. Right now, for example, I have my journal, a book used to record the books that I have read, a book for collecting my favourite poetry, a book for Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179745646276617669.post-86435578354434957442010-06-20T11:09:00.000-07:002010-06-20T11:09:52.880-07:00Just a quick note...As you have probably noticed, I have a new design for my blog. The basic layout of the page elements is the same so hopefully you will not have any trouble navigating my blog. The top header has tabs that link to all of the pages on this blog, while the right-hand sidebar contains the welcome message, blog followers, my profile, blog archives, links to the most popular posts, top labels of Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179745646276617669.post-69817153012362512992010-06-15T12:57:00.000-07:002010-06-15T12:57:17.794-07:00Pagan Values Month: What I ValueI value truth, courage, persistence, and honesty.
I value sincerity, integrity, faithfulness, and a good sense of humour.
I value discretion and boldness, caution and daring.
I value imagination and strength of character.
I value trees, lichens, flowers, mosses, stones, hills, rivers, oceans, valleys, prairies, and all things that walk, creep, crawl, swim, fly, or slither on this planet.
I value Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179745646276617669.post-59240480855642947512010-06-11T15:44:00.000-07:002010-10-04T19:24:08.832-07:00Book of the Month: Always Coming Home"Perhaps not many of us could say why we save so many words, why our forests must all be cut to make paper to mark our words on, our rivers dammed to make electricity to power our word processors; we do it obsessively, as if afraid of something, as if compensating for something. Maybe we're afraid of death, afraid to let our words simply be spoken and die, leaving silence for new words to be Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179745646276617669.post-77187945291801962642010-06-08T12:29:00.000-07:002010-06-08T12:31:48.712-07:00The Family Tree: MapleMy parents planted the maple tree, along with a mountain ash, not long after they built our old house, which must have been almost thirty years ago. When I was born, the tree was still young, yet vigorous and fast-growing.
I loved that tree. I watched it through the seasons, as its leaves turned from light green to dark green to yellow and gold. I watched robins build nests and raise their Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179745646276617669.post-20659155251951120682010-06-03T10:18:00.000-07:002010-06-03T10:18:00.074-07:00The Way North, Part TwoTo read Part One, click here.
The northern mountains rose before her, appearing one morning as the clouds lifted. For a long time they seemed to grow no larger, remaining a line of dark jagged peaks along the horizon. The wind blew cold from the north. And then the mountains grew quickly and she was among them, in the true north, the free north, at last.
The mountains did not look as she had Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179745646276617669.post-37316144683575353822010-06-02T10:18:00.000-07:002010-06-02T10:18:22.932-07:00The Way North, Part OneShe had left the city on the first day of spring, feeling no regret as she walked for the last time in the muddy streets, through the market busy with people, past pickpockets and beggars, haughty lords and traders from across the seas. She took the main road that led straight north out of the city. The road was busy, filled with people coming and going: merchants, soldiers, poor people looking Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179745646276617669.post-32698765561593631082010-05-28T13:41:00.000-07:002010-05-28T13:42:57.840-07:00As I write this...As I write this, I sit at the old oak desk in the library, the only sounds the ticking of the clock, the scratching of my pencil on the paper, and the singing of a robin outside of the window. The desk is old, and has seen much use in its many years: an ink stain on the surface has almost become part of the wood grain, and the inside of the top drawer has been stamped many times with the words "Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179745646276617669.post-20943023140502396472010-05-25T12:33:00.000-07:002010-05-25T12:33:04.491-07:00Tree of Fire: Ponderosa PineWhile Douglas-fir may be the tree that I remember most from my childhood, ponderosa pine will likely be the tree that I will remember best from my years at university. My university is located in a transitional area between the bunchgrass and sagebrush grasslands, and the open-canopied ponderosa pine forests.
These trees dominate this land; their tall size and relatively large diameter, Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179745646276617669.post-37487448591480885192010-05-22T10:03:00.000-07:002010-05-22T10:03:32.762-07:00FrustratedWhat does it mean to be religious? What are the characteristics, if any, of a religious life? How do we make our religion part of our everyday lives?
As someone practicing alone, without the examples of other religious lives being lived around me, and who grew up in a family where "religious" was almost a dirty word, questions like these are very troubling. It has taken me a while to become Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179745646276617669.post-60736421382846526592010-05-17T12:26:00.000-07:002010-05-17T12:26:05.211-07:00Tree of my Childhood: Douglas-firDo you have a particular tree that you remember from your childhood better than any other? For me, that tree is the Douglas-fir, Pseudotsuga menziesii, the most common tree that grew on my family's property. For me, Douglas-fir is the classic conifer and a symbol of the place where I live.
Confusingly, Douglas-fir is not a true fir, and its genus name, Pseudotsuga, means "false hemlock." ApartHeatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179745646276617669.post-89439128462722735322010-05-16T14:25:00.000-07:002010-10-04T19:24:49.844-07:00Say the Trees Have Ears"Say the trees have ears," she said, speaking to Junie but also seeming to implore the books around her, the table and chairs, the air itself. "Say they have heard all the murmurs down the centuries that we have missed, or thought we heard, but misheard. Say the trees have ears, and not only ears but voices too. They might have heard things spoken under their boughs a hundred years ago, or in Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179745646276617669.post-3660289706137190012010-05-08T16:25:00.000-07:002010-05-08T16:25:01.399-07:00Another Little Thing: Prayer BeadsOther bloggers write thought-provoking, intelligent posts about politics, philosophy, ethics, theology, and religion. Although I have written on topics such as these in the past (here, here, and here), I have never felt that I was very successful. More often, I am writing about little things, such as trees, books, altars, and my daily walk. Life is made up of little things.
Such as prayer Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179745646276617669.post-63570311051385473462010-05-03T09:42:00.000-07:002010-10-04T19:25:13.046-07:00Book of the Month: The Journals of Dorothy Wordsworth"Alfoxden, 20th January 1798. The green paths down the hillsides are channels for streams. The young wheat is streaked by silver lines of water running between the ridges, the sheep are gathered together on the slopes. After the wet dark days, the country seems more populous. It peoples itself in the sunbeams. The garden, mimic of spring, is gay with flowers."So wrote Dorothy Wordsworth, Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179745646276617669.post-82927946024584067202010-04-20T20:19:00.000-07:002010-04-20T20:19:31.928-07:00For Those Who Have Gone BeforeThe two portraits hang on the wall in the dining room, as they have for years. Two portraits, of two women that I have never met and will never meet, at least in this life. One is my father's great-grandmother, the other my mother's great-grandmother; they would be my great-great grandmothers.
I do not know anything else about them - I do not know their names, or where they lived, or what Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179745646276617669.post-80677940251462333942010-04-17T09:20:00.000-07:002010-04-17T09:22:22.887-07:00Finally, SpringAlthough winter ended early here, for weeks it seemed as though the temperatures refused to warm up and spring did not progress. Finally, however, there can no longer be any doubt that spring has finally arrived. Temperatures in the last few days have been as high as 25 degrees Celsius (77 Fahrenheit), the wind has finally been more or less still, and people have been wearing shorts, t-shirts, Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179745646276617669.post-47975060604248897932010-04-09T14:03:00.000-07:002010-04-09T14:03:28.525-07:00News, Updates, and QuestionsIf you have time, check out the comments section of my earlier post, "In Defense of Introverts"; there's been some interesting discussion and things being said over there.
Also, pages! I don't know if this is a new feature in Blogger or if I have just noticed it now. At any rate, I have now added three pages: an "about me" page, a page of recommended reading, and a page listing all of the Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179745646276617669.post-65418988264436507982010-04-06T07:10:00.000-07:002010-04-06T07:10:02.350-07:00In Defense of IntrovertsIt is another windy day here, which is hardly a surprise. The rare day that is completely windless would be far more surprising. The sky is grey and threatens rain, but I am skeptical: a rainy day here is as unlikely as a windless day. My thermometer read nearly 15 degrees Celsius (around 6o Fahrenheit) when I left my room, but it feels cooler as I shiver in the cold breeze.
Some raindrops Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179745646276617669.post-21398998050526784862010-03-26T20:43:00.000-07:002010-03-26T20:43:53.671-07:00Views of Nature in the Country and in the CityTo what extent does the place in which we live affect our attitude toward nature? Specifically, do people living in the city and in the country have differing views of nature?
I grew up on twenty forested acres in the country. Our house was on a small, dead-end gravel road that had only two other houses on it. When I looked out our front window, I could see hills, trees, and agricultural Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4179745646276617669.post-19631880105845770552010-03-20T19:49:00.000-07:002010-03-20T19:49:58.604-07:00Spring Equinox 2010March 20, 2010 - vernal equinox, often considered the first day of spring.
The greens of this land are subtle. Sagebrush, one of the predominant plant species, is evergreen, a pale, greyish, washed-out sort of green. It is a frugal plant, low to the ground (I have rarely seen an individual taller than I am), with small leaves and inconspicuous flowers - suitable for this dry, windy land, an Heatherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02434221231298315347noreply@blogger.com2